


His Biggest Fear

by Steponmeshoeman



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, mormor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 23:11:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steponmeshoeman/pseuds/Steponmeshoeman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet. Off of the prompt "Sebastian finds out what Jim's biggest fear is"</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Biggest Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own Sherlock or it's characters. Blah blah blah.

Three. Two. One.

It was as simple as that. Each and every kill, each and every time. Three. Two. One. He breathed in the moment his mind finished uttering the word 'three' and breathed out when he pulled the trigger after the word one. The shot was clean, as it always was. And Sebastian-as normal-had not been noticed in his perch.

Sebastian wasn't noticed when he left the building, either, gun in its case over his shoulder. He wasn't noticed when he rounded the first of the corners that would take him to the awaiting car. He wasn't noticed when he slipped into the back seat, and he most definitely wasn't noticed when a Land Rover decided to crash into the car he resided in.

Sebastian did not end up injured. A bit shaken, and a bit off balance? Sure. He felt a buzzing in his pocket and ignored it. It would of course be his Boss, demanding an update of some sort. Sebastian knew better, in all honesty. He needed to get out of the car, and far, far away before the police got there. He needed to get home before he was caught up with tedious paperwork, and the need to display a fake I.D. He needed to get home for dinner, of all things. Because Jim demanded he be home for dinner that night.

He left his gun behind and ran out of the car, hood up to hide his face. It wasn't until he was nearly half way home fifteen minutes later that he stopped running long enough to notice the pain in his arm. But his arm didn't matter. Any strain from the accident in his arm was not going to stop Jim from caring that he was late. Oh, god. He did not want to think about the near constant buzzing in his pocket.

The rest of the way he walked briskly towards the flat, not having the energy or care to run, or check his phone. He was fine, and would be back at the flat soon enough, anyway. At some point his phone stopped buzzing, he hadn't noticed.

He entered the flat to find Jim pacing in the foyer, his cell phone was on the table, one of Sebastian's knives struck through it, and through the wood below.

Jim stopped his pacing, took one look at Sebastian and turned around. He stomped to his room and slammed the door, locking it without a word.

Keep me updated, Moran. -JM

Sebastian. I've just been told the car you were supposed to be in has been decimated. -JM

Moran. -JM

Sebastian, answer me, damnit. -JM

You're not allowed to die. -JM

If there is one thing you are not allowed to do, it is dying before me. -JM

Fuck you. -JM

Sebastian couldn't help but smile when he flipped through the text messages. He would check the voice mail later. James Moriarty, consulting criminal. Afraid of losing him.


End file.
